


Sipping Bubbly, Feeling Lovely

by thetidesisrising



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-02-27 21:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetidesisrising/pseuds/thetidesisrising
Summary: A collection of prompts submitted to my tumblr account, cesraeborgia. Feel free to send me prompts!!(title from LOVE by Kendrick Lamar :))





	1. I Want to Keep You Safe

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently working on some keenler prompts at the moment, and I decided to organize all of my past prompts under this fic, especially since the keenler fandom has never been dryer and I've been a staunch supporter of these guys since the beginning. Also, reminder that the first five of these are from a while ago, my writing style has definitely changed as I've matured. I hope you all enjoy!! Please review!! xoxo.
> 
> Prompt: "could you write a keenler fic where they're arguing in an alleyway? Like really angsty but then they make out."

The next time that they see each other is in the fall; the air had finally gotten that crisp feeling to it and it divulged Ressler to a sort of clarity he hadn’t had in the past two seasons. She had always loved summer, something that he had never been able to relate to. She radiated beauty in the sunshine, her legs beginning to darken as if the rays had kissed her. He, however, burned easily, he chalked it up to the ginger genetics and so they never really hung out in the summer, something that he had always regretted. 

After spending all of his time chasing leads that had expired two weeks previously, seeing her blonde locks fastened tightly in a bun at the coffee shop they had used to have reality checks and conversations about the state of the economy in really messed with his head. 

Her face was focused on the book on the table, and if it wasn’t for the few glances she threw around every minute or so, the situation could have been described as serene. 

He attempted to make his way toward her, maneuvering through the maze of chairs that were scattered across the floor, attempting to not make his presence well known. He hadn’t been here since she ran, the memories of her laughter were too much for him to bear. 

Two feet before he could reach her, she looked up. She made eye contact with him, and his eyes swelled with tears when he saw the fear swirling throughout hers. They stared at each other for a minute, reveling in the sight that the other was still alive. 

Before he could react, she bolted. 

“Keen!” he called, attempting to match her speed by jumping over purses. “Wait!”

If she heard him, she didn’t acknowledge him. She continued to run across the room, and into the kitchen. 

Realizing that she was about to vanish before him once more, he picked up his pace, carelessly pushing strangers aside as he chased her through the kitchen and out the front door. 

She was a few feet in front of him when he heard a sickening crack, and she screamed in pain, dropping to the ground and clutching her head near her left knee. 

“ _Liz_!” he yelled, jumping over a fallen trashcan in an effort to get to her quickly. 

He saw her scramble to stand upright, wincing in pain as she rummaged through her back pocket to find her cell phone. 

He closed the distance between them in three strides, and like he had in Union Station all those months ago, he crouched beside her, his left hand resting on her shoulder. 

He tried to ignore the flinching movement she made when his other hand attempted to look at her leg. 

The silence that followed was akin to the moments they shared when they first became partners, in other words, it was strained to the point of nerve-racking. She refused to look him in the eye, electing to look at the chipped polish on her nails. 

Her breath hitched once he was finished setting her leg with wood from a broken crate near the door to the coffee shop. 

“Are you going to arrest me?” she asked, daring to look him in the eye. 

He scoffed, looking at her as if she had grown another head. 

“I want you safe, Liz, and I’m prepared to provide that.” 

She rolled her eyes. 

“The only thing you’ll manage to do, is put a bullet in my head,” she grumbled. 

He looked at her sharply, and she attempted to avoid his gaze. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She laughed, but it wasn’t the musical laugh Ressler had grown to love. 

“You mean you suddenly forgot that you rammed your car into my transport? Or how even now all you have done is sent me to be killed.”

He frowned, attempting to take in what she was telling him. 

“You think that I was trying to kill you?!” 

She snorted.

“I don’t need to tell you that, do I?”

He removed his hand from her shoulder in an instant, running it through his hair. 

“I am disgusted with you. You actually think I wanted to kill you?! The Russians were going to shoot you as soon as you walked onto that plane. If Reddington hadn’t called me you would be-” he gasped for air, attempting to brace himself against the wall. 

“You would be _dead_ , Liz!”

She looked at him with confusion in her eyes as he continued his yelling, her mind beginning to wrap her head around the emotion boiling in his blood. 

“And then you actually were. Do you know what it felt like to watch you drowning in a pool of blood that appeared to be your own? Do you know what it feels like to pretend that nothing is wrong when all you want to do is throw up, moments after you had just declared that your partner was innocent?”

He lowered his voice, looking her directly in the eye as tears began to surface. 

“The images of you on the TV they wheeled into the courtroom that day didn’t leave my dreams for the next three weeks, and that’s not what even tearing me apart.”

His voice cracked. 

“You chose Reddington and Tom over me,” he whispered, hanging his head in shame. 

She attempted to scoot toward him, wincing as her splint dragged against her other leg. 

“If I had turned myself in, the Cabal would have killed me, Ress,” she said, trying to reach out to touch him. 

He shook her away. 

“Do you not understand what I would do to keep you safe?” he cried. “You mean too much to me for them to touch you. I could have taken you to my parent’s cabin, we could have figured this entire thing out!” 

She cut him off by launching herself into his lap and pressing her lips to his. He responded back with earnest, latching onto her lips as if they were a lifeline, and moving his hands to tug on her hair, and she retaliated by twisting his lower lip between her teeth. He pulled back to kiss her neck as she gasped, latching on to the tip of his ear.

“I love you,” he murmured as he transferred his lips to her swollen lips once more. 

She plunged her tongue into his mouth and his hands moved to cup her face as he battled back. Releasing him after a couple minutes, he went back to work on her neck. 

“I love you too,” she muttered, diving her head into his neck. 

They hid until the light faded, and for the first time since her birthday, they didn’t focus on the present.


	2. It's Not Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: An angsty one-shot based on 3x05 where Ressler thinks Liz is dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're throwing it back to season three with this one folks, please read and review!! xoxo

When they roll the TV into the testimony, he is eternally confused. 

It had been long enough, and if they were here to show the jury the video evidence he had spent the past few weeks over analyzing, he may as well throw a book at the damn woman. He was sick and tired of Reven’s girlfriend; from the first time he laid eyes on her he knew they were going to have a problem. He wasn’t expecting the confused look on her face when she saw the two men roll the cart up to the front. 

“What is going on?” she asked, and suddenly an uneasy feeling filled his stomach. 

“We’re sorry to interrupt, ma’am,” the man on the left said as he finished rolling the cart. “But this is something that you must see.” 

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. It was obvious that it was just more evidence to prove that Liz was guilty and an attempt to get him to work closely with the CIA. 

The man turned on the TV, and he heard Reven huff in annoyance behind him. 

What he saw made his stomach drop. 

“We have photograph evidence that international fugitive Elizabeth Keen has been killed,” the female reporter said, her lips pressed in a thin line. 

_No_ , he thought. There was no way in hell Reddington would allow her to die.

“The next few images are sensitive material and not for the weak of stomach,” she warned as the screen changed. 

There, in eerily real evidence, was a picture of Liz lying in a pool of her own blood. Her skin was paler than he had ever seen it, and her eyes were closed.

His breath hitched, and suddenly he wasn’t seeing his partner, but Audrey bleeding out in his arms, with nothing he could do to stop it. He began to hyperventilate, his hands shaking as he attempted to smooth his hair back in an attempt to appear okay. He hadn’t even told her how much she meant to him, the last thing he told her was that he didn’t believe her, even when he spent all of his nights wishing that she would come back. He was infuriated with Reddington; it was _his_ fault that he would never see her smile again, or witness her laugh at one of his dry attempts at humor.

“Agent Ressler,” a voice hissed. It sounded like it was trying to reach him through layers of water and mud, his ears weren’t having it.

 “Ressler!” the same voice said, grasping one of his shaking hands. 

“Yes ma’am,” he said after a moment, looking at the figure of Reven Wright standing before him. 

He hadn’t realized that the entire court room had become complete chaos.

“Get on the phone with the task force, I want to know what the hell happened to Redddington,” she ordered, releasing his hand now that she was sure he was paying attention to her. 

“Yes ma’am,” he said, attempting to slip his mask back in place. 

She motioned to the door before spinning around to talk to the CIA director. 

He attempted to walk at a normal pace, trying to refrain from running. He slipped out of the court room, and headed directly to the police man positioned to the right of the door. 

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from sounding to earnest. 

“Take a left at the end of the hallway and the men’s room is on your right,” he replied, and Ressler was amazed at how stoic he was. Liz had died, the whole world should be grieving. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, following the guard’s instructions. 

He barely made it into the bathroom before the first sob escaped his chest. Dragging himself into the handicapped stall, he sank to the ground, clutching his knees to his chest. 

He had loved her, but never had the chance to tell her. Who was going to remind him to not give in to his addiction now? 

He sobbed for a while, resting his head on top of his knees. There was no one to comfort him now; once again, he had lost the only thing he cared about. It was bad enough that his mother called him nearly every day in order to ensure that he was okay with hunting the woman he never shut up about, but now there was no way that he would ever see her again. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and attempting to soothe his breathing, he fumbled to answer it. 

“Ressler,” he answered, his voice fractured from crying. 

“It’s Samar,” a familiar voice said, and he nearly started to cry again. 

“Who did it?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“It’s not real,” she said. 

He forgot how to breathe. 

“Ressler?” she asked after a few moments, and he gasped for breath. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Reddington set it up so that the bounty for her murder would disappear,” she responded. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.” 

“She’s okay?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper. 

“Okay as she could possibly be, I spoke with her this morning,” Samar answered, her voice taking on a caring tone. 

He hung up, and let out a sob in relief. 

Next time he saw her, he would make sure to tell her. The prospect of living without her was terrifying, he had discovered, and he wanted to make sure she knew it so that there was no chance of it happening again. 

After all, she deserved to be reminded that there were people in her life that did care about her without a hidden agenda. 

He exited the stall and splashed some water in his face to try and diminish the irritated skin surrounding his eyes. 

It was time to go back to playing nice. 

 


	3. You Make Me Feel So Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ressler tells Liz he loves her for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is proof that I am capable of writing things besides angst (lol what a lie, past me wrote this). I currently have two prompts in my inbox that resemble this, so I hope it satisfies you guys too. Song is "You Make Me Feel So Young" by Rosemary Clooney. Enjoy! Please read and review!! xoxo

He could hear the music before he even got to the door, the light fluttering of the saxophone over the record player tale-telling. 

Three years had passed since she returned from her life on the run and moved into his apartment. 

They started out as roommates, for a while their working relationship was so fractured that it took an excess of alcohol and shouting match to attempt to fix it. Her feelings for Tom kept them from a deeper relationship for a while; the Cabal murdered him after he blew through a large chunk of their resources in order to clear her name. She blamed herself for his death, and no matter how many times he tried to comfort her, she shrugged it off, convincing herself that she was the person she never wanted to be. He finally got her to re-evaluate that part of her mind once they started a relationship. He shook off the feeling of dread that accompanied him whenever he thought about Tom Keen, instead focusing on balancing the pepperoni pizza as he messed with the door handle. 

Today was their five-month anniversary, and wanting to surprise her, he had gotten her favorite pizza from the expensive brick oven place in Foggy Bottom he had taken her to for one of their first dates.  He was supposed to get a bottle of wine but simply did not have enough time; she had specifically asked for a bottle of red when he left for the office that morning, however, Cooper made him work overtime, and by the time he made his way to Foggy Bottom, the wine store was closed. 

He was hoping that she wouldn’t be too mad; though she got a presidential pardon for her actions three years ago, she was still having a hard time finding a job as many people refused to trust her. She usually stayed inside their apartment, only leaving to work out in the 24-hour gym across the street. She doesn’t admit it, but the press scares her; for the first four months after her exoneration, they followed her everywhere. She’s still terrified to walk in the park three blocks away because of the way the mothers look at her.

He shivered, and stepped inside.

He nearly laughed at the sight in front of him but doesn’t because he refused to alert her of his presence. 

Clad in only one of his flannel shirts and a pair of green fuzzy socks, she twirled about in tune to the record player he had salvaged from his grandmother’s house a year ago. 

_“You make me feel so young,”_ a soft voice sang in tune with Rosemary Clooney, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his features.

Setting the pizza on top of the coffee table, he turned his attention toward her. He threw his suit jacket onto the sofa, rolling up his sleeves and making his way in her direction. 

She spun around at that moment, blushing furiously at the sight of him. He grabbed her hand before she stopped dancing in embarrassment, and joined her. 

She laughed as he pulled her close, resting her forehead against his. 

“Hi,” she whispered, leaning upward to kiss his lips briefly as they continued to dance. 

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked, spinning her in tune with the song. 

Her attitude swiftly changed and if her body wasn’t insisted on dancing she may have started crying. 

“When I went to Rite Aid today some guy was taking pictures of me buying razor cartridges. I’m just so sick of the attention. I can’t deal with the way people look at me anymore.” 

If Audrey had said that to him, he may have been slightly wounded, however, this was Liz, the most gorgeous yet insecure person he had ever laid eyes upon. 

“They’ll forget about you soon enough,” he said as the song dropped to a quiet point, attempting to build for the climax. 

“I doubt that highly,” she responded. 

He surprised her by cupping her face in his hands and looking her directly in the eye. 

_“And even when I’m old and gray, I’ll feel the way I do, today,”_ he sang along, smiling as he witnessed the tears that began to streak down her cheeks. 

She giggled, blushing furiously as he kissed the tip of her nose. 

“I love you sweetheart, more than I think you know,” he said.

She smiled at him as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. 

“I love you too, Ress.”

Leaning on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his once more.


	4. Marry Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A very nervous Ressler asks Keen to marry him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I have taken creative liberty with this supposedly sweet prompt and brought angst, cause that is apparently all that I can write, even in 2016 (shocker!). Enjoy!! Please read and review!! xoxo

The ride home from work was terrible; he was so tired and he didn’t want to fight with her. She hadn’t been to work in the past three weeks, recovering from a gunshot wound to the abdomen that he blamed himself for. 

“I’m ready to go back,” she had said that morning as she threw a pair of pants on, risking a glance at him as he buttoned his shirt.

“The doctor said a month, Liz,” he reminded her, looking up from his top buttons to gauge her reaction.

“That’s you,” she grumbled. “I’m coming with you today,” she said in an authoritative tone. 

He laughed at her as he buttoned the last button, pulling his collar up. 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you anywhere near the Post Office.”

She groaned in frustration. 

“I’m a big girl Ressler, I can handle myself just fine,” she snapped, though the slump in her shoulders revealed how close she was to caving. 

“You don’t think I know that Liz?” he demanded, standing a little taller.

She glared at him, begging him to fight her. 

“Then why the hell won’t you let me do what I want to do?” she shouted. 

Ressler grabbed a hold of his tie, forcefully pulling it around his neck. 

“I want you to be safe, Keen!” he responded with the same amount of force.

She scoffed, pulling off the pants with a huff of defiance.

“You sound just like Tom!” she yelled. 

He didn’t respond, swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking back tears, he grabbed his briefcase, making his way to the door. 

“Don,” she said with tears in his eyes. “You know I didn’t mean it, come back-” 

“Goodbye Keen,” he responded.

He rolled his shoulder blades backward, wincing at the memories of that morning as he pulled into the parking lot of their apartment building. Grabbing his briefcase, he made his way to the entrance of the building, inhaling shakily.

He didn’t have the patience to deal with this today. All he had wanted to do was give her the damn ring and call it a day. 

He fumbled with the small box in his left pocket, grimacing in internal pain as he recalled what she had said to him that morning, looking at his feet after he pressed the elevator button.

He had wanted to ask her the simple question for weeks, and even though they were fighting, he thought that if he couldn’t say it to her when they were avoiding looking each other in the eye then he would never be able to say it otherwise.

Sighing, he hadn’t even registered that he had made it to their apartment door. Fishing for the keys in his left pocket, he shook his head. 

He didn’t want her to think of him as another Tom Keen. 

Stepping into the living room, a tight knot frown formulated on his face as he heard the low murmurs of music coming from their bedroom.  As he got closer, he discovered the song to be _Cherry Wine_ by Hozier; her go to song for when she needed to reflect on something she had done. 

Dropping his briefcase and coat on the bar, he continued on his journey to the back bedroom, slowly pushing the door open. 

She was a sight to be seen. Clad in a Detroit Lions t-shirt that was obviously his, she was laying on her side, her hair splayed across the pillows.

“Liz,” he said, and she turned over, looking him directly in the eye from her position on his side of the bed.

“Oh my god Don, I’m so sorry, I should know better-” she began.

He closed the distance between them, making the descent to kneeling on one knee like it was his sole purpose in life.

“Marry me, Liz,” he said.

It wasn’t a question; it was a demand.

She began to nod, allowing the tears she had held back that morning to spill. 

“Yes, you daft man, yes, a thousand times yes.”

She leaned into him, closing the gap with her lips, any remains of the fight from earlier in the day clearly forgotten.


	5. Just in Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Red calls Ressler to tell him that he needs help. Liz has been kidnapped and Ressler saves Liz before the kidnappers do bad things to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!! This anon understood my insatiable thirst for angst all the way back in 2016!! Enjoy!! Please read and review!! xoxo

It’s eleven o’clock when the phone rings, and he threw the phone to his ear, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Ressler,” he barked, glancing down at his watch. 

“Donald-” a familiar male voice answered, and before he could even get an explanation out, Ressler cut him off.

“Where the hell is Keen?” he asked, annoyed with her lack of communication that morning. She _always_ called him when she was going to spend the morning with Reddington.  

“That’s why I’m calling, Donald, if you would have let me explain,” he quipped, and if Don had been standing in front of Reddington, he would have knocked him upside the head.

“Well?” he demanded, and he’s slightly surprised when Reddington doesn’t laugh at his impatience.

“Agent Keen was kidnapped a little over two hours ago, on her way to the coffee shop on third,” he said.

Attempting to stop the bile he felt rising in his throat, he blinked, anger clouding his vision. 

“Why the hell did you wait to tell me this?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. 

“I waited until I got an address,” he responded, an undertone of regret in his voice. 

“You have to the count of two to tell me Reddington, I swear to fucking god-”

“2031 Glenn Avenue,” he said, and Ressler began to make his way to the elevator, ignoring the strange looks the rest of his colleagues gave him. 

He hung up, refusing to listen to any other nonsense the criminal had to say. 

“Aram,” he said, and the man in question jumped at the tone of his voice. “Tell Cooper that I’m leaving for the day, family emergency.” 

He nodded, and Ressler stepped in the elevator, leaving the black site for the day. 

He was surprised he could even get the car to start; he clearly was over his head. Entering the address Reddington gave him into his phone, he turned out of the parking garage. 

The scenario reminded him painfully of Audrey; he couldn’t lose another woman who was that important to him, especially since he hadn’t told her. Removing his left hand from the steering wheel, he rubbed his temple. The inner agony he had bottled up was about to explode, and he felt a flash of pity for the people holding her. He would have no mercy. 

The drive was surprisingly, not long at all, the house was located a little over twenty miles from the black site, and due to his ability to turn his siren on in the FBI issued SUV he was driving, he made it to the house in record time, tires screeching as he pulled up to the curb, pulling his coat tightly around him as he poised his gun as he jumped out of the front seat and onto the road. 

Approaching the door, he didn’t even knock. Shooting the knob as to alert them of his presence, he bolted into the house, checking each room for signs of a struggle.  

“Damn it!” he cursed under his breath when his original search proved futile. 

Making his way to the door, he nearly missed the yelp coming from the corner of the kitchen. 

His disappointment was soon swallowed by his rage, and he opened the pantry door, revealing stairs to a basement. He creeped down them, craning his neck so that he could look over the railing. 

The sight of her made his blood boil. She was surrounded by three men and had a purple bruise on her right cheek. 

He stood still, wracking his brain for a plan of attack, but emotion took over as the man in the center ran his hand across her breasts, drinking in the sight of her. 

He shot the man immediately, and she yelped as the body fell on top of her. He shot one of the other men before they could regroup, running down the remainder of the stairs in order to get better view of the last man. 

He grabbed her, holding her in a chokehold. 

“You shoot me, you shoot your little girlfriend,” he said, and without thinking, Ressler shot him directly in the forehead, wincing as Liz screamed. 

He ran over to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her forehead as she sobbed, running his fingers through her hair. 

“They didn’t -” he began, not wanting to finish the sentence. 

She shook her head, tears pouring down her face. 

“You got here just in time,” she said, burying her face in the crook of her neck. 

He exhaled in relief, hoisting her up and fishing for his phone. Dialing the number that called him this morning, he held it to his ear as Liz cried in his coat collar. 

“Reddington,” he said, his voice beginning to crack. “I have Liz; I’m taking her back to my apartment.”

He heard the older man exhale in relief. 

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, but there’s a bit of a mess here,” he responded, beginning to walk up the stairs.

“I’ll send Mr. Kaplan to the scene now,” he said. “Thank you, Donald.” 

-

 When they got to his apartment, he handed her one of his flannel shirts and a pair of sweatpants, and motioned toward the bathroom. 

“You take a shower, and I’ll make us some hot chocolate. We can talk then if you want.” 

She smiled through her tears. 

“Thank you, Ress,” she said, her voice hoarse from crying. “It really means a lot to me that you’re doing all of this.” 

“My pleasure, Liz.”

She showered quickly, and when she came out a few minutes later, he handed her the other mug, leading her by the small of her back to his bedroom. They sat on his bed, drinking the warm liquid in silence. 

“I thought I had lost you,” he said after a moment, setting his mug on the nightstand.

She followed in suit, glancing at him in concern. 

“You got to me in time Ress, nothing happened,” she said, attempting to reassure him. 

“But something could have,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “And you wouldn’t have known.”

She looked at him in confusion, moving closer to him.

“What haven’t you told me?” she asked. 

“That I care for you, Liz,” he said, his voice beginning to crack. 

She smiled at him, grabbing a hold of his hand. 

“I care about you too, Ress.”

He sighed in frustration, running his free hand through his hair. 

“But you’re more than that to me,” he said, turning away from her. 

Shell-shocked, she didn’t say anything for a moment, and he took it the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I should have-”

She cut him off by leaning across him to capture his lips with hers. He responded eagerly, and after a few seconds she released him. 

“You’re more than that too,” she replied, a smug grin taking control of her features. 

She pulled the covers back, and leaned in the other direction to turn off the lights, getting under the covers and tucking herself into his side. 

“Goodnight, Liz,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

“Goodnight, Ress.” 


	6. Barefoot and Covered in Purple Egg Dye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Keenler AU meet cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you will soon see, this was written within the last year, and definitely reflects my writing style now. Please send me more prompts and enjoy!!! Read and review!! xoxo

All Liz had wanted to do was take a nice, long bath and pour herself a glass of red wine.

Liz was a child psychologist, and though she considered her work to be fairly stress free, her day had been long, too long. One of those days that stretched on interminably, crawling and pining to achieve some venerable ideal - a paycheck perhaps - only to squander all feelings of hope and purpose in the process. 

In addition to owning her own practice, Liz also worked as a psychologist in a private, Christian elementary school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On this particular Thursday, poised just three days before Easter, the elementary school had thrown a giant Easter festival, meaning that the faculty - including Liz - had to run various craft stations in the school’s state-of-the-art gymnasium. In what Liz could only describe as a set-up by her ex-boyfriend Tom Keen, the first grade teacher in charge of the festival, Liz was assigned the egg dyeing table. The first two hours of the festival were remarkably tame, but by the third hour, little Susie Baker had managed to throw the cup full of purple dye across the table, staining not only Liz’s white blouse, but also her hair. 

This colorful development, as well as her frustration with an accident on the Capital Beltway that extended her fifteen-minute commute to forty-five minutes, paled in comparison to her current predicament. She was so rejuvenated as she walked into her master bathroom, recently devoid of her heels and ruined green cardigan, that she almost failed to notice the knave. 

Resting near the drain of her bath tub was a grisly, heinous spider. 

She shrieked, dropping the towels in her arms as she backed against the wall, sliding down onto the tile floor. Chest heaving, she reached for her pocket to get a hold of her phone, only to remember that Aram and Samar were in New York this weekend, meaning that the apartment across from her was empty, and that no one would be coming to her rescue. She shuddered, tears pooling in her eyes as she lamented over her sheer wretchedness.

Suddenly, an idea struck her, and she checked her phone for the time. 7:30! Her other neighbor should be home by now! She had only seen him a couple of times since he moved in a little over four months ago, but she was praying that he would come to her aid. If she wanted to take a bath tonight, he was her only hope.

So this is how she wound up at Special Agent Donald Ressler’s door: barefoot, nearly covered in purple egg dye, and desperately in need of a savior. 

She knocked twice, biting her lip as she silently implored him to answer the door. 

When he opened the door she froze, a faintly blushing as she met his eyes. Her new neighbor was _gorgeous_. How had she lived next to him for so long without truly appreciating his appearance? He was tall and muscular, with vibrant blue eyes and gelled blonde hair. To top it off, he was still in a suit, and Liz cleared her throat to keep her mind on task.

“Hi, I’m Liz Scott, I live just next door. I know we haven’t met before and I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”

It took him a moment to respond, utterly dumbfounded at the lively and stunning woman before him. At first his expression was one of open admiration, however, once he processed her desire for help, he became concerned. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and Liz’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head at the sound of his gravelly voice. “I’m Don, by the way. Don Ressler.”

Her blush grew more profound as she lowered her eyes in embarrassment.

“I’m scared of spiders, and there’s this massive one in my bathtub, and as you’ve probably noticed I really need to take a bath, so I was wondering if you could kill it for me, but I totally understand if you think I’m weird or are not in the mood to deal with some total stranger.”

He couldn’t help but raise a quizzical eyebrow at her reply, however, quickly realizing that any judgements he might have may only make her further uncomfortable, he smiled warmly.

 “It’s no problem Liz.”

She smiled broadly in response, and he noticed the way in which her shoulders seemed to relax as she led him into her apartment. He accomplished his task swiftly and effectively, noting her profound breath of relief once he disposed of the spider’s corpse. 

“I really appreciate you doing this for me Don,” Liz said, her eyes filled with gratitude. 

He smiled, briefly resting his hand upon her shoulder.

“You don’t need to thank me Liz.”

They considered each other for a moment, before Liz blushed and adverted his gaze.

“After I took a bath I was going to open a bottle of wine. You could join me, if you want.”

His smile grew larger.

“I think I would really enjoy that, Liz.”


	7. Dizzyingly Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ressler and Liz going undercover together. 
> 
> I hope I did this one justice!! Enjoy and please review!! xoxo

The music blasted through the speakers, vibrating deep within Liz’s bones as she sipped her martini against the brick wall. Her skin was icy and irritated, and her arms were peppered with goosebumps. She strained her eyes – lids coated in heavy makeup – as she tried to get a glimpse of the men walking through the foggy entrance. She bit her crimson lip in what would appear to be anxiety, combing her left hand back through her hair. Her demeanor was not completely put on, however; she was inwardly uneasy at Ressler’s tardiness.

Frankly, she had been unnerved as soon as Reddington skipped into the war room that morning, his voice chirpy and sporting a smile to rival that of the Cheshire cat. He wove a tale of a sex trafficker’s empire in D.C.’s very own Southwest neighborhood, but the jewel in the crown of his plan was his insistence that this man – Dolos – could only be caught if Liz and Ressler went undercover. Both parties adamantly refused, but Reddington would not budge, and after ten minutes of debate Liz and Ressler were resigned to their fates. Reddington was ecstatic, winking deeply at Liz and clapping Ressler on the back with a “would you loosen up a bit Donald? And for heaven’s sake could you wear some leather?”

Fourteen hours later saw Liz clad in the skimpiest black dress she owned, the satiny fabric dipping low to brush her navel in the front. She could not recall the last time she had been to a club, though there was a period of her college life where she found herself six drinks deep and submersed in the sea of bodies rolling across the dance floor nearly every Friday.

She huffed in annoyance, minutely straightening against the black bricked wall.

The plan was for Liz to arrive first and scope out the club, identifying every exit and camera. She was then supposed to order a drink for herself and hang near the bar while she waited for Ressler, who was posing as her date, to arrive. His arrival would be followed by dancing, before Liz wandered off to “the bathroom,” only to be picked up by Dolos. Ressler would then call the Calvary in, Dolos would be arrested, and then maybe they could go for a celebration drink at a much less crowded bar.

She relaxed her shoulders once she recognized Ressler’s blonde hair through the haze of the fog machine, only to immediately tense. Her breath hitched.

Ressler looked _hot._

He wore black jeans and a patterned blue button down with nearly half of the buttons undone, revealing his upper chest. She would have laughed at the black biker jacket he had on, but she could not breathe, her breath quickening and her eyes darkening in desire. She was not the only one to glimpse him it seemed, for a small group of women were beginning to make their way over to him.

He made eye contact with Liz, his lips devolving into a deep smirk, and before she knew it he held her against his body and kissed her soundly.

She was so shocked that she could not help the throaty moan that escaped her. The noise seemed to spur him on, and he intensified the kiss, his hands running up and down the length of her curves to rest on her hips. He pulled back, releasing her lower lip with a pop.

Her lipstick was smudged across his lips and he smiled smugly. She was dizzyingly drunk on desire, her core pulsing.

Her lips curled into a smile.

“Hello to you too,” she drawled, leaning in to bite his bottom lip.

She met his gaze and was surprised to find the same level of unhinged wantonness she felt reflected within her partner’s eyes. She knew he was the best at what he did, and it chilled her to the bone.

She trailed her lips down the length of his law to rest against his ear.

When she spoke her voice was deep and sultry.

“Let’s dance.”

He nearly dragged her onto the dance floor.

Lights flashed in a delusional kaleidoscope of color, enveloping them in their folds. He led her through a sea of debauchery, pulling her flush against him as he began to sway to the pounding electro beat. She ground against him as his hands traveled up her curves to rest upon her breasts.

She could feel the line between them diminishing into thin nothingness, and she could not help but wonder what her true emotions were. Ressler surrounded her – ensnaring her with the same charm she once disdained. She so desperately needed space. She needed to breathe…

Ressler’s grip on her chest tightened as she faltered against him, and the desire in his eyes dissipated into profound concern as he leaned into her.

“Liz, are you alright?”

She wanted to laugh bitterly. It was an act, then.

Instead she cleared her throat, meeting his gaze in determination.

“I’m fine, but I think that I’ll head to the bathroom.”

His jaw clenched in preparation, his expression turning stoic as he nodded. He released his hold on her with one last lingering glance, and she slipped into the crowd.

Almost immediately, a dark haired man grabbed her arm.

“How ya doin’ sweetheart?” he crooned.

Liz licked her lips in a faux swoon.

“To tell you the truth,” she began, deliberately slurring her words, “I’ve been feeling a little tense all evening.”

She narrowed her eyes promiscuously, leaning in for the kill.

“Do you think you could help?”

Dolos’s lips curled into an arrogant smile, and he puffed his chest in satisfaction.

“I think I know just the place.”

He led her to the right, and she briefly made eye contact with Ressler, blinking three times to signify that she was heading to the back office.

By the time Ressler reached the office, a team had already breached the room, and Liz was in the process of handcuffing Dolos. She blushed deeply as Ressler approached, averting his gaze. She handed Dolos off to another agent and waited for Ressler to approach.

“So,” she said shyly, barely meeting his eyes.

“So,” he replied.

Liz swayed awkwardly, biting her lip in anticipation. To her surprise, Ressler lifted her chin, his fingers trailing to brush a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“You doing anything tonight?”

She appeared disinterested.

“Not unless you ask me first.”

He stepped closer, his hand settling to cup her cheek.

“Well then, Liz, do you want to get a drink?”

She beamed.

“I don’t think there’s anything else I’d rather do.”


	8. Bruised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do a prompt where liz gets hurt on the field and ressler is so worried and carries her around not letting anyone touch her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terribly sorry everyone for my extreme hiatus. I have been suffering from one of the worst relapses in the history of my struggle with depression, and I am afraid that it has taken quite a toll on the quality and longevity of my writing. I hope to continue to post more stories soon, however!! 
> 
> Enjoy!!!

The mechanical thud of windshield wipers against smudged glass grated on Ressler’s nerves. He was wound tighter than usual today; the muscles around his mouth were frozen in a painful grimace, his mood as fickle as the snow and sleet-ridden weather outside.

When he looked back on it Ressler swore it was a Monday, though it could have been any – in the task force days lingered with the tenacity of years. Even now, with heavy snowflakes descending down upon the roof of his government issued SUV, the man who once prided himself on his punctuality and attention to detail seemed to have given in to idleness.

Ressler swore it was a Monday because he was recovering from a trifle cold – or so he called it. Liz had pestered him into leaving early on Friday afternoon, grumbling under her breath about his self-destructive ego and his inability to take proper care of himself. She was beyond furious with him this morning when he waltzed into the war room at eight on the dot, thrusting a flimsy package of tissues in his hand, fretting about him like fluttering butterflies. She refused to leave him be until he slipped the tissues in his jacket pocket. It was at that exact moment, naturally, that Reddington chose to saunter into the war room, smiling his infuriatingly Cheshire smile and purring at the “domesticity of the situation.” Ressler scowled, and Reddington flashed him a knowing grin before proceeding to regal the task force with the minutia of today’s blacklister.

Reddington called him the graverobber. The man’s real name was Harvey Gaynes, but Reddington called him the graverobber because he spent his nights digging up the graves of wealthy politicians, harvesting fingerprints and other DNA samples in order to rob the families left behind. Reddington informed them that the graverobber planned to strike in the evening, and Cooper ordered Liz and Ressler to get to the scene.

Now, Ressler drove them through the snow-covered streets of D.C., struggling to breathe through his nose as he fought against the urge to sneeze. The last thing he needed was for Liz to berate him; his partner sat beside him in the passenger seat, her legs propped up on the dashboard. She was innately distracted all morning, and whatever it was that was bothering her did not seem to be helped by Ressler’s cold. Ressler was frustrated as well; Reddington demanded that he speak to the graverobber once they apprehended him. He was tired of being Reddington’s puppet, tangled strings propelling him to dance to every one of Reddington’s whims.

“I can hear your mind whirring, Ress,” Liz said. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Ressler snorted at the cliché, the motion unfortunately triggering the sneeze still lodged in his throat.

Liz shot him a warning look, her eyes filled with worry.

He cleared his throat, squashing the impulse to roll his eyes.

“You should have stayed home,” she said, her eyes softening.

He laughed humorlessly and pulled into the parking lot.

“And leave you out here to fend for yourself in the dark? Fat chance.”

Liz bit her bottom lip to hide her smile, causing Ressler to grin at his victory.

They exited the car and drew their weapons. Under the shroud of darkness, they creeped towards the graveyard gate. The air was heavy, ice coating the raven iron gates. Silence hung about the vale like smog.

Liz turned to face him, her voice low.

“Check the perimeter, I’ll go in first.”

He nodded in response, and she opened the gate. The frozen hinges squeaked softly, and he stopped his pursuit, turning back to look at Liz.

Something wasn’t right. It was too quiet –

The ground boomed as the night erupted into flame. Ressler ducked, his ears roaring at the sensation. The orange and red hues muddled his vision; the earth seemed to blur. He lazily looked over his shoulder, half-expecting to find Liz beside him. His eyes widened in terror.

“Keen?” He shouted, pushing forward to the edge of the smoke.

His anxiety heightened at her lack of response, and he desperately clutched his phone to his ear, panting as he pushed his way through the debris with his other arm.

“Agent Ressler?” Aram questioned.

Ressler heaved a sigh of relief.

“I need an ambulance now,” he gritted, growling in defiance as he stretched to reach Liz.

“Liz!?” he screamed.

He heaved half of a gravestone away and he heard her whimper in response. The smoke burned his lungs and he coughed heinously.

“I’m here,” he croaked.

He at last came to rest his eyes upon her soiled face. She bled from her side and shoulder, and Ressler immediately dropped to her side, hoisting her into his arms. She lifted her uninjured arm to the side of his face, her hand caressing his jawbone.

“My brave knight,” she murmured, her voice hoarse with smoke.

She could feel his heart pound in his chest as he clutched her closer to him.

“I’m going to be okay, Ress.”

Ressler chuckled darkly, trekking back the way he came. He didn’t care about Harvey’s whereabouts, for all he cared the man could rot in hell. He just wanted to keep her safe, to hold her…

Upon their return to the SUV, he threw open the passenger door, floundering through the glovebox in an effort to locate the first aid kit. Once he found it, he sat down on the curb, gingerly cradling Liz’s head as he administered gauze onto her shoulder. Liz continued to stroke the side of his face, her eyes entreating. He worked silently for a few more moments until the ambulance arrived, his thumb soothing the matted hair on her forehead all the while. A male medic approached them with a stretcher.

“We’ll take it from here, sir.”

Ressler gnashed his teeth, carefully tightening his arms around Liz and pressing her closer to him.

“No,” he stated to the shock of both the medic and his partner.

Liz frowned up at him, but Ressler continued to hold her steady.

“Sir, we need to tend to her now, can you please let her go?”

Ressler’s gaze flickered about wildly.

“I can’t let you,” Ressler replied, his voice quaking in panic.  

Liz’s expression melted, and before she knew what she was doing, she pulled his head down to meet her lips in the lightest of kisses. She broke away a few seconds later, holding his gaze as he stared at her in wonder.

“It’s okay, Ress. You can let me go now. I’m safe because of you.”

As if shaking himself from a dream, Ressler nodded slowly, loosening his grip on Liz as the medic bent over to take her from his arms. When the medic placed her upon the stretcher, Ressler stood at her side, dropping a chaste kiss to her forehead. Liz’s eyes twinkled up at him, reassuring him that she would in fact be okay.

“I’ll see you at the hospital, mister,” she drawled.

He laughed.

“Not if I see you first.”


End file.
